


in another land

by ever_increasing_circles



Category: British Comedian RPF, Pointless RPF
Genre: Edinburgh, Gen, The Edinburgh Festival
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-27
Updated: 2011-08-27
Packaged: 2017-10-23 02:56:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/245525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ever_increasing_circles/pseuds/ever_increasing_circles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>August brings that certain kind of nostalgia.</p>
            </blockquote>





	in another land

**Author's Note:**

> Any similarity between the fictional versions of the people portrayed here and the actual people is purely coincidental. This is a work of fiction. This is not an attempt to defame the character of said person on the basis of libel, as the work is FICTIONAL (and NOT an intently false statement created with the express purpose of misleading others about the actual character of said person).

On the second day of August, Alexander notices his calendar still reads July. He takes it down with a smile, flipping the page to the next - the next page, the next month. _August_.

He's busy, now - his initial look towards the calendar had been to confirm this, and he finds it _so_ confirmed. Even as a summary of what goes on in more detail in his diary, he's still busy. Busy last month. Busy this month. Busy next month. He likes that, though; wouldn't the alternative be so much worse? And yet, for now, in this moment, he isn't doing anything. He isn't doing anything, and so he can afford himself a few moments more to stare at that page, to see the words and not _see_ them because _August_ , and--

Even now, he breathes a sigh of relief to put the calendar back up on the wall. This month would be like last month would be like next month, and that was the kind of pace he could keep up with. He can look at the month and still feel _something_ for it, but knows that nostalgia is better than the frenzied panic that _could_ be. That undoubtedly _is_ , elsewhere in and across the country. Heading up there, now, the veterans and the newcomers and the stalwarts, the double-acts and trios and more and those by themselves, but not _by themselves_ for this month at least because _oh, everybody's going to be there_.

 _Is everything ticked off? Venue, accommodation, flyers, technicians... the show itself?_

 _\--Don't even talk about that--!_

He and Ben had only been there twice themselves (with their own show together, at least), but each time - both times - stuck out like a landmark in his memory. That nervous excitement. _We can do this. We're doing this--!_ That first year, so unremarkable it could barely even be called disastrous, and that second year that led on to--... to everything _else_. Had that not happened, _then_ what? (It wasn't even the Perrier anymore.) Would they still be doing it now? Still going up there, every year? He feels guilty to feel a shard of doubt, somehow. Something would have happened. Something else. _Something_. ...Even so, just to consider it...

Ben's in Guadeloupe and his own diary is quite full. Perhaps in the past they might have thought to remark on the date but such a thing is less remarkable now, and this August will come and go. Like the one before it, like the one after, like all those before and _all_ those after. But Alexander gets nostalgic sometimes, and he sees little harm in that.

Days after that, he meets Richard when their paths cross - or at the very least, when their paths fail to clash. Meeting like this is almost clandestine; Richard's just out of one meeting and on the way to another with Channel 4 (more likely more specific than that, but that's as far as Richard has the patience to explain), and Alexander was able to take this short break from his own working day at the BBC. With the BBC. Almost like calling a truce from either side of enemy lines... he thinks, smiling into the heat of his coffee. _Or not like that at all_. There's work to be done. They have jobs to do. They can worry about that in half an hour, when this momentary respite is cut short. Alexander leans on the metal bars of the bridge, looking out before turning back towards Richard who stares between his own coffee and nothing particular in the distance just above. He brings the cup to his lips briefly before then speaking unprompted, "... Mock the Week's got the right idea."

"Hm?"

"Taking a break over August. Split the series, make it longer. Good idea."

Alexander entertains Richard these moods; the weekend feels a long way away. He leans his elbows back against the bars, thinking idly about how it is still, undeniably, _warm_. Wonderful weather for the time of year. They stand there with coffee but it isn't so cold as to notice, not yet. Not here. How's the weather up _there_? Is it raining, perhaps? (Most likely.) He smiles, more to himself than to his companion. "Having difficulty tying people down?"

"It's catching them's the hard part."

"You need to let them come to you, Richard...! Less likely to get into trouble, that way."

This _does_ coax a small smile from Richard's lips. "Nothing wrong with a little friendly persuasion. ...Have _you_ tried booking up panel shows up through August? It's like a treasure hunt, and the treasure's all fucked off. Barely a comedian to be found for the whole month."

"I didn't know that was your job, now."

"It's my job to worry about it."

"You _do_ know where to find them, though."

"That's not helpful to me."

"Shouldn't you be keeping an eye on them, though? Award-winners are hot properties, you know. As are the nominees! ...So I hear."

"Transient fame, my friend. They pick new ones every year, did you know that?" He catches Alexander's line of sight and his expression softens, slightly. "You miss it?"

"What's that?"

"Oh, I don't know. I hang around a lot of comedians. Seem to get this siren call around this time of year, even when they're not going. I know you've not been for a while..."

Alexander shrugs slightly, "It's enough to know it's still going on. I don't miss all the stress and preparation, let me tell you that...! Though... maybe even that was fun in itself, somehow. Back then, when I was part of it. I miss it and I don't, I suppose. It's a difficult thing to do. I respect all those who keep doing it year after year... Ben and I were just lucky, I suppose." Richard watches him speak and continues to do so once he's stopped, as if expecting more by way of explanation. This is not, however, forthcoming.

They stand in silence; Richard finishes his coffee, and Alexander thinks about how their experiences differ. About how _their_ experiences differ to all those up there even as they speak. Richard, simply, has never felt that particular pressure - or that joy, that desolation, that elation. Even he and Ben only did it _properly_ those two times, although Ben had at least been up previously. And there, even _there_ , lay that difference between them. He gazes evenly at the sky in front and above as he finishes his own coffee, knowing that each one of them can only have a different experience of it every year, but there's still--... there's still _that_ \--...

There's still _there_ , where _they_ all are. Now. That place, bringing them all together. _Them_. It feels like a long time ago and so very far away, sometimes. Othertimes, like barely any distance at all.

(Richard claps him over the shoulder as they make to leave, "And besides, you've got a BAFTA now, haven't you?! Honestly..."

and time passes, still. It'll be September before they know it.)


End file.
